Gojira: Chronos Labyrinth
by elfman1
Summary: The Futurians have won! King Ghidorah Rules Japan! No Gojira in sight! Who can save Japan, and the earth, now?
1. Prologue

1.1 GOJIRA:  
  
1.2 Chronos Labyrinth  
  
by Vincent Collins  
  
1.3  
  
1.4  
  
1.5 Prologue  
  
  
  
ONE  
  
Fire. Heat. Pain.  
  
Intense, all intense. The creature was no stranger to fire, for he has wrought so much of it. No stranger to heat, for it was his mother and father, the egg from which he hatched so many, many years before. No stranger to pain, for it was his ally during his battles with the three- headed one, the metal one, and the winged ones.  
  
The intensity, however, is greater than he has ever experienced. He does not want this fire, for he has not wrought it. This heat is neither a protecting nor a nurturing thing at all, but an unkind enemy. And the pain, this pain he cannot use, this pain that makes him yield.  
  
He was called to this place, where the earth itself opens to greet him, but he knows not why. His time had not come; there is no other to carry on the way, yet he was summoned to this place of fire, heat, and pain.  
  
The small ones! Suddenly, he can smell them, taste them in the air. The small ones, and their metal friends. He can sense their presence. Through the scorching fire, the insurmountable heat, the blinding pain, it is clear to him.  
  
It was the small ones who summoned him. He knows not how, nor is it important. What he must do now is survive, to find a way to live, as he always has.  
  
So he reaches out, not with hand or foot or tail, but with mind, with his thoughts, searching for an anchor that will give him the strength to survive.  
  
The ground below him gives, and the earth's fire reaches its burning hands to embrace him. He falls, he screams.  
  
And he is joined in his scream. He has reached another, even as the earth grasps hold of his body. The two minds meet in the vastness of nothing, through the fire untouching, the heat unscathing, the pain unfelt. The two souls join, and from the union, the creature finds comfort and strength. His body succumbs to the angry fire of the earth, beckoned forward by the small ones, but his soul finds solace with another.  
  
As he sleeps, he sees life, from another's eyes. And, again, he is born.  
  
TWO  
  
He is pushed from the warmth, into the cold light. All that he knew, the soothing 'rhythm', the caressing sounds around him, is being torn from him. Blind, frightened, he reaches out with all that he is, and he screams.  
  
He finds no soothing 'rhythm'. He hears no caressing sounds, only harsh, stabbing ones, but somehow he is joined. Another reaches and screams. Another who's scream is one of pain and desperation. In their mutual scream, they meet and, not knowing the other, unite.  
  
And now he can see! He knows not what he sees, but it is hot, almost painfully so, yet still comforting. The vision barely lasts moments, before he is thrust back to the light, the cold. He can feel his companion reside within him.  
  
The warmth returns suddenly, and now he can feel the 'rhythm' again. It feels different somehow, but it is there, and he takes comfort in it. As he does, the sounds around him subside, and he sleeps.  
  
  
  
"Gojira" is copyright Toho Pictures. All other characters are copyright the author, Vincent Collins, and cannot be used without expressed written consent from the author. "Gojira: Chronos Labyrinth" and the story under said title is copyright the author appears and appears on FanFiction.com courtesy of the author. This story, in whole or in part, should not be used, in whole or in part, without expressed written consent of the author. 


	2. CHAPTER I: Soul Asunder

GOJIRA:  
Chronos Labyrinth  
by Vincent Collins  
  
  
CHAPTER I: Soul Asunder  
  
  
As the second hand swung half past the 2:47 AM mark on its Mickey Mouse   
face, seven-year-old Tetsuo Takashi awoke with a start, an anguished scream caught  
in his throat, a cold sweat cooling his body. There's something wrong, he thought  
as his eyes frantically searched his darkened room.  
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he calmed down enough to consider the  
rest of the small apartment that he lived in with his mother and father. Noting  
the time, he crept out of his room, barefoot, and padded around, looking for any   
sign of his dark and foreboding sensation, any clue to his feeling that that he  
had lost something.  
Nothing had been bumped, dropped, spilled, knocked over, or otherwise  
misplaced, so, having his curiosity satisfied, but still carrying that 'something  
is wrong' feeling, Tetsuo crawled back into his bead, and slept.  
  
6:15 AM made his alarm clock screech and yell, until he was awake enough  
to get out of his bed and turn it off. He got halfway to the washroom when he   
recognized the distinct high-pitched whine of the living-room television.  
"...Repeat, everyone is to stay home and off the roads until the all  
clear is given. King Ghidorah has been spotted flying over Hokkaido, Tohoku,  
Kato and Chubu provinces..." The broadcaster's pleasant voice droned on,  
bringing to Japan morbid, frightening news, but Tetsuo tuned her out. He was  
more concerned about the news that King Ghidorah was out and about, unchecked.  
It felt wrong to him.  
Once again, he was overwhelmed by a sense of lost, as if some important  
part of his life no longer existed. He staggered backward until his feet  
suddenly stuck, and he fell into a sitting cushion beneath him.  
"Tetsuo!" For the first time, he was aware of his mother, and then his  
father, who had been standing the entire time, enthralled by the broadcast.  
As his mother, a large but beautiful daughter of an established and now retired  
sumo wrestler, danced gracefully around the dining table to rush to her son's  
side, Tetsuo's father, also the son of a sumo champion, with the girth to show it,  
punched the power button on the remote control. The newswoman's face blinked off  
the screen in a flash of light.  
"Tetsuo, are you alright?" his mother asked, a look of concern etched on  
her features. She felt the boy's forehead and beneath his chin. "You're so  
pale and clammy! Do you feel well?" Tetsuo turned, slowly, and locked eyes  
with his loving mother. He wanted to tell her something, anything, but there  
was nothing to say. He himself could not answer the question, 'What is wrong?'  
and so he simply nodded and hugged his mother tightly, drawing strength from  
her love and embrace.   
"I didn't sleep well, mother," he said finally, pulling away from her  
to look in to her eyes once more. "But I'll be fine."  
"Here, boy, let me look at you," called his father. Tetsuo stood and  
slowly walked toward his father obediently, then sat on the man's enormous knee  
when indicated. As his mother looked on, Goro ran his hands slowly over his  
son, stopping at key points for a brief moment, then moving on.  
"Did you have a nightmare last night?" he asked finally when the  
examination was over, his voice a baritone that rumbled in Tetsuo's chest as he  
sat closely to his father. The boy, not sure of his answer, closes his eyes  
and went through his mid-night waking.  
"Yes, father," he said at last. It was the only explanation that fit  
the scenario, and so he accepted it as such. Goro smiled gently then, tussled  
his son's head, and stood up, lowering Tetsuo to his feet.  
"You'll live. No demons will bother you any more," he said, the gentle  
smile still present. "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when it's safe to go to  
school." With a nod, Tetsuo hugged his parents, then dragged his feet all the  
way back to his bed, the weight of the world seemingly resting on his soul.  
  
Goro and his wife Kay watched solemnly as their troubled son trudged  
back to his room. Kay slipped under her husband's arm, and looked into his  
eyes, also troubled.  
"You know something," she said, her subtle yet respectful way of asking  
Goro to tell her what's on his mind.  
"Something happened to him last night, Kay," he replied in a low voice,  
still looking in the direction of Tetsuo's room, the smile gone from his face.  
"What, Goro? Please tell me."  
"Something tore a part of his soul out, Kay." She gasped and pulled  
away a bit to get a better look at his expression. "I don't know what or how,  
but something has ripped an important part of our son away."  
Kay shuddered at the thought, and drifted to the sitting cushion that  
her son had occupied moments ago, and absently lowered herself onto it.  
"He seemed so...bothered by Ghidorah's appearance," she noted, more to  
herself than to her husband. "Why now? After all these years?"  
"I don't have the answer to that," Goro said, a hint of frustration in  
his voice. "I don't even know where to look," he added, racking his brain for  
any hint or clue that he might have overlooked in the last month, year, or  
beyond, as to his son's sudden ailment. The worst of it for him was the sense  
of helplessness that he felt. Years of medical study, years of intensive  
training in the ways of the body, both physical and spiritual, as he learned  
the fine art of acupuncture and acupressure, and he could not heal that which  
plagued his son.  
He strolled over, past the television, to the small window and stared  
out at Downtown Tokyo. He could see the bay from his thirtieth story perch.  
He marveled, as he always did, at how the city still stood tall and proud,  
rebuilt once more after one of Ghidorah's attacks five years earlier. His  
thoughts quickly shifted back toward his son. "We may never know..."  
His voice caught in his throat. Far off in the distance, he could see  
the golden monster, flying lazily along. His blood ran cold, as it did  
whenever he saw the behemoth. His father, a former grand champion sumo  
wrestler, had taught him to never show fear. Now, and at every instance  
before and since, he could not help but to show his fear for the might that the  
beast held.  
"Goro...!" Kay gasped in a shocked whisper, moving to stand next to  
her husband.  
"I see him, Kay. I see the Monster." They stood there and watched  
silently as King Ghidorah landed a distance from Tokyo and began his reign of  
destruction.  
  
  
  
  
"Gojira" and "Ghidorah" are copyright Toho Pictures. "Mickey Mouse" is copyright Disney. All other characters are copyright the author, Vincent Collins, and cannot be used without expressed written consent from the author. "Gojira: Chronos Labyrinth" and the story under said title is copyright the author . This story, in whole or in part, should not be used, in whole or in part, without expressed written consent of the author./p 


	3. CHAPTER II: Memories of a Time That Wasn...

GOJIRA:  
Chronos Labyrinth  
by Vincent Collins  
  
  
  
CHAPTER II: MEMORIES OF A TIME THAT WASN'T   
  
  
  
ONE  
  
"Hey, Tetsuo, you're early," greeted Lieutenant Devon Marcus, the American assigned guard duty for the 'out of time' prisoners, as they were now known. They had been living in those same prison cells for almost twenty years, after being tried for treason and sabotage of an official, government sanctioned operation and found guilty on all charges.  
They spent the next year in a Kyoto high security prison, until Ghidorah had rendered Japan unsafe and what was left of the country's population was evacuated. Most stayed along the eastern-pacific border, in China and Korea, hoping for the day when they could return home, but many scattered themselves across the globe, settling wherever they could find work.  
Tetsuo, now a 26 year old man with an impressive physique and decorated military background, took his post by the prison cells themselves, fourteen levels deep into the high security structure built on China soil by Japanese hands. Lieutenants Marcus and Takahashi were the last line of defense against anyone trying to break the prisoner's out, or the first line against any escape attempted that they might have considered taking.  
"I'm always early, Devon," the Japanese man replied with a smirk. "You're the one who's always late."  
"Oh, now you're nitpicking," Marcus gave back, a smile on his own lips. They clasped hands heartily, Tetsuo's being significantly more massive than that of his thin-framed partner. His eyes momentarily became distracted by Devon's brown hair that seemed to twitch to his slightest movement, regardless of how short it was.  
They sat at the lone table, a metal thing adorned with pens, official forms (all blank), a security monitor that cycled through seven camera feeds showing the route from the main entrance to the building fourteen stories up to the cell room, and a computer touch screen interface connected to the building's network, with a direct link to a few choice government agencies, and went through their daily checklist: weapons, charged and ready but with the safety's on; all line's of communication within the building up and running properly; all lines leading outside up and running; air filtration system operating within 'specs'; all security system's at maximum sensitivity and functioning normally, and, lastly but certainly not the least, the livelihood of the prisoners.  
"Hello, Ms. Kano, how are you today?" Tetsuo asked of the female prisoner, the one who had come back in time with the others from Japan's distant future. She was old now, but far younger than her wrinkled skin and arctic-white hair would lead one to believe. The years of confinement have taken their toll on her once strong body and proud will. She was frail beneath her grey prison garb, almost impossibly thin.  
"As always, Mr. Takahashi," she croaked, her voice long ago having turned hoarse and raspy from what once was constant screaming and crying. "I'm alive, as your government wants me to be. Were you expecting a change, maybe?" she asked, bitterness left only in her words. Tetsuo always felt saddened whenever he talked to her. Even if what she had done those twenty years ago had been deemed 'wrong' by both the government and the people in the general populace, he still saw her actions as heroic, albeit misplaced. To see her, as she appeared in that prison cell, was somewhat heartbreaking.  
The guard did not answer. He merely gave her a piteous look, then turned on his heel and marched over to Guard Post number 2, in between the two cells, the doors exactly one and one half meter on either side of him.  
The guard room itself was not at all large; five meters deep by ten wide, with a twenty meter ceiling. The prisoners themselves had more room, including a washroom and lounge chair for viewing selected television programs.  
"Prisoner Kano checks out," called out Tetsuo, in strict military fashion, to no-one in particular.  
"Prisoner Terasawa checks out," mimicked Devon, standing by the guard desk chair. Protocol fulfilled, he sat as his partner slid into an at-ease stance. The guard room door opened up just then and a M-15 android unit, it's synthetic human-like body in a guard uniform that matched Devon's and Tetsuo's blue and grey, entered and took a stoic stance as it waited. While the M-15's looked just like the original M-11 models that were brought from the future with their lightly bronzed 'skin' and dark blond 'hair' atop a chiseled brow, nose and jaw, the advance in technology in the years since have made these models far superior, both in performance and human interaction. Devon made a few quick notes on one of the forms on the table, passed it on a clipboard to his partner, who overlooked and signed it, then handed it over to the android when he got it back.  
"All clear," Marcus said as the M-15 scanned the sheet. "Everything checks out."  
"Very good," it replied mechanically. "I will see you at 0400 hours, as usual." Devon stood, they all saluted, and then the android guard wheeled around and disappeared behind the closing door.  
"At last," breathed Devon, retaking the seat with a controlled fall. He pulled out a bound stack of papers from beneath a pile of forms, opened the makeshift book to a page three quarters toward the back and began reading. Tetsuo's curiosity piqued, shown by a turn of his head and an arched eyebrow.  
"What is that?" he asked.  
"A book Terasawa wrote, right before the trial," answered Marcus in English. "It's really good stuff. It's perfectly unbelievable, but good."  
"What's it about?"  
"This giant monster, like Ghidorah, 'cept without wings, that would trample Japan every now and then."  
"You're serious!?" Tetsuo had to keep himself from leaving his post in his excitement. There was something about the concept that moved him at his core. Suddenly, briefly, he saw images, like long lost dreams, of something large, ominous, unidentified. "What is the monster's name?" he asked, trying to hide his unexplained desperation.  
"Huh?" Devon looked up, having to make a conscious effort to pull himself away from the reading.  
"The monster. In the story. What is it's name?" Even as he posed the question, he realized how foolish he sounded. Why am I acting this way?, he asked of himself. In the brief moment he had to ponder that thought, he found no answer.  
In lieu of a vocal reply, Devon simply held up the bound papers, showing the front page.  
On it was a single word. Three syllables that forever shattered Tetsuo's world.  
  
TWO  
  
There was fire, red and angry, all around him. Defiantly, he screamed at it. The fire brings heat, so much heat that his vision is distorted, rendered almost useless. Frustrated, he yells at the fire pit. The heat causes pain, the first he's ever felt in such a way. Bewildered, he cries.  
  
Suddenly, he is awoken, away from the fire, the heat and the pain. He is back in the comfort place. There is no 'rhythm', but the caress is there, the warmth is there. He is surrounded, as before, and, also as before, he moves forward, mindless to anything but that which does call for him. This time, though, there will be a change. He will not succumb to the devilish toys and pranks of the little ones. He will destroy them, destroy that which summons him. He will survive.  
  
  
THREE  
  
At first, Marcus thought his partner was just goofing around, as they tended to do on the particularly slow days. It took him a moment, though, to realize that a man can't fake getting so pale in the way the large Japanese man did. Devon was already up and moving when Tetsuo's eyes fluttered and rolled back into their sockets. His head dropped, and he tipped forward, but was caught deftly by his partner.  
"Got him," Devon exclaimed under what little breath he had. Stopping a man of Tetsuo's size was no easy task It was twice as difficult to lower him down to the ground gently, but Marcus managed it.  
Laying Tetsuo on his back, Devon checked for a pulse, which was frighteningly quick, and breath, that being far more shallow than can be considered healthy. Rapid eye movement could clearly be seen beneath closed eyelids, but those stopped as Takahashi jerked forward, taking in a long, deep breath, and tossing his partner almost to the wall.  
"Tet!" Devon was on his feet in the blink of an eye, back at his partner's side. "Talk to me, man," he implored, in English, "What happened?"  
Tetsuo's eyes darted around the room, trying to find his bearings. Hearing Marcus' voice, he snapped toward it and focused on the man's face, until things started to clear for the downed guard. Devon calmed, too, as he saw the alarm in the larger man's face dwindle.  
Tetsuo opened his mouth to speak and found a desert where his voice once was. By the time his resulting fit of coughing had subsided, his partner was by his side once more, with a cup of water.  
"GAH," Tetsuo sputtered after downing the first gulp. "Cold!" With some help from a straining Devon, Takahashi made it back to his post, but presently leaned against the wall to steady himself. His head swam, but with each breath and passing moment, there was further clarity.  
"What happened?" he asked, when he was finally able to.  
"I was going to ask you the same thing!" Devon paused a moment to make sure his partner was steady. "You fainted. I showed you the title page of Terasawa's story, and you passed right out."  
Tetsuo rubbed his forehead, puzzled, and found it sweaty. He flexed his hands, his arms, rolled his head slowly, and tested the rest of his joints.  
"I'm not hurt," he noted in English.  
"That's because I caught you," replied Marcus with a grin as he returned to his seat.  
"Caught me!?" balked Tetsuo, shuddering. He pondered the difficulty of the feat. "Thank you," he continued in English, his eyes expressing his sincerity.  
"No problem," Marcus gave back. "But when your shift is done, you're going to the infirmary for a check up," he said, switching back to back to Japanese. Tetsuo nodded.  
"Agreed," he replied. With one last look at his partner to make sure of his well being, Marcus returned to his reading.  
  
Three more hours into their shift, and one hour away from their short break, Devon sat back and closed the 'book'.  
"Man," he breathed, a hint of astonishment and awe in the exclamation. "That guy is good," he said.  
"Was," came a voice, correcting him. Tetsuo recognized it immediately as Kenichiro Terasawa's voice, emanating from the speaker that fed sound from his cell. "I don't write anymore." Tetsuo stepped over and peered into the man's cell for the third time that day. He had been asleep since the lieutenants had first started their shift, his now bloated and overweight body resting peacefully on the cell bed. Both guards had to check the health monitor display on the computer screen every so often to make sure he was still alive, for the man suffered from various ailments, the most dangerous of which was his heart condition.  
Like Emi, Terasawa too had aged poorly in the cell during the past two decades. Unlike Emi, however, he managed to gain weight despite the strict diet he was fed. As his health declined, his exercise regiment was cut down, until it was finally removed from his daily schedule out of fear of inducing a heart attack. Even with all the knowledge and technology that Wilson and Glen Shiko had brought from the future, all that could be done for Terasawa was to administer his prescribed medication and let him rest.  
"The trial broke my soul," he continued, after a difficult but successful attempt at getting his feet on the floor and his body to a sitting position. "This…dungeon destroyed it," he said, disdain almost as thick as hate twisting his words as he gestured toward the surrounding walls. "I have nothing left inside to write with. I have nothing to write for." His words were bitter and, for some reason, moved Tetsuo.  
"I am sorry that you feel that way," he said to the prisoner with honesty. Tetsuo wanted to talk to this man, to find out what he knew of this creature in his story.  
"Yeah, it's a real shame," Devon added, swinging his chair around to get a better view of the window on the cell door. "You had some real talent."  
"Hmph," Terasawa grunted as a retort. "Writing history is easy. The characters, the stories, they are all there already. I just add the words and put it to paper."  
"History," repeated Marcus in disbelief. "Mr. Terasawa, there was no Gojira."  
"Oh, yes there was," uttered Kenichiro, a bitter sneer on his lips. "In my time, there was." With that, he hauled his great bulk forward and up onto his feet and made his slow, agonized way to the washroom.  
Both guards stared at the man; Marcus in wonder and disbelief, Takahashi in wonder and awe.  
  
The return of the M-15 unit marked the halfway point in the guard's shift, as well as the beginning of their break. After a quick stop in the restroom, they went to the mess hall on the floor for a short meal.   
It was a large room, about the size of a concert auditorium, with food dispensers lining two of the four walls. Takahashi and Marcus had found seats near the far corner, close to one of the waste receptacles.  
"Hey, Tet," implored Devon after swallowing a mouthful of ramen noodles. "are you okay, man? You've hardly touched your burger." Tetsuo blinked, as if coming awake from a short nap. A quick glance showed him that Devon was just about finished with his meal. When Tetsuo scanned his watch, he was mildly surprised to find that there were only ten minutes left in the break. He had spent almost the entire time lost in thought, as he vacantly nibbled on his french fries.  
He could not get the name out of his mind: Gojira. Nor could he stop thinking about the images he saw, the sensations he experienced during the time that Devon said he was unconscious.  
"I am well," he replied finally, in Japanese to Devon's English. Marcus's only response was to raise an eyebrow in skepticism.  
"You had better hurry with your food, then," he said, pointing to his partner's still full plate. With not a word wasted, Tetsuo devoured the hamburger and remaining fries.  
  
When they relieved the M-15 guard, Tetsuo and Devon switched places; the American took the post between the cells, while the Japanese took the seat at the table.  
Finding the story hidden beneath the forms, Takahashi began to read it in earnest, stopping only for the periodic glance at the security monitor.  
Five minutes before the end of their shift, Tetsuo closed the book, sat back in the chair, and sighed, much in the same fashion as his partner hours before.  
"Where did you stop," Devon asked in Japanese, a smirk on his face.   
"Stop?" Tetsuo looked puzzled. "I finished it." He punched up an image of Terasawa's cell and found him sleeping again. The guard was not going to be able to talk to the prisoner that day.   
"You 'finished' it? So soon? It took me two days!"  
"I read Japanese faster than you," and what a read it was, Tetsuo added to himself. The 'book' covered the beginning of the monster as a living prehistoric dinosaur of an unknown species on Largos Island in the 1940's, to it's radiation induced transformation in 1954 into a massive creature of destruction.  
The 'story' covered not only the many attacks and recorded battles of the monster, but it also told of the strength and courage of the people of Japan who rebuilt their towns, cities, and lives after each disaster. It ended with the monster's 'death' within the mouth of a volcano, and its subsequent resurrection and battles with the mutant creature known as Biollante.  
There was something about the volcano, and Gojira's fall, that moved Tetsuo deep within his soul. Images, like long forgotten memories resurfacing, were conjured. Feelings of heat and pain, of rage and desperation. Somehow, Tetsuo felt that he knew the beast that had plummeted into a volcano, in another time, in another place.  
"…SO!?" exclaimed Marcus impatiently. "What did you think?" Tetsuo took a long moment to mentally sift through the feelings stirred by the passages.  
"It was…moving," he finally concluded. Devon put on a hurt look, as if he just found out that he had been cheated.  
"'Moving'? That's all you have to say?" Tetsuo shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Ah, well, I guess I'll have to take what I can get."  
The conversation was ended by the reappearance of the M-15 guard. He took the at-ease stance and nodded to the human guards.  
"It is 0800 hours, Lieutenants Takahashi and Marcus. You are both relieved of duty. Your shift is over."  
"Yessir…quitting time," marked Devon as he filled out the appropriate forms. With the paperwork done, Tetsuo Takahashi and Devon Marcus headed for the door, Marcus already stripping off his outer protective dark grey vest. Tetsuo afforded himself one long last look at the sleeping Terasawa before turning to go. As he did, he caught sight of Emi within her cell, still wide awake, sitting upright on her bed. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she seemed to look right into his soul. She nodded almost imperceptibly, then laid herself down to rest, leaving Tetsuo to blink and wonder. Still deep in thought, he trudged down the hall for the awaiting elevator.  
  
  
  
"Gojira", "Ghidorah", "Kenichiro Terasawa", "Emi Kano", "M-11" and "Wilson and Glen Shiko" are copyright Toho Pictures. All other characters are copyright the author, Vincent Collins, and cannot be used without expressed written consent from the author. "Gojira: Chronos Labyrinth" and the story under said title are copyright the author . This story, in whole or in part, should not be used, in whole or in part, without expressed written consent of the author. 


End file.
